Transferred on to CD from the original 8-track cassette recordings, 'Worn Copy' represents another fine case for the home studio solo artist. The artist in question is Ariel Pink who has no shame in making these tracks sound as lo-fi as possible. But whilst the production is amateurish, the songs within hint at a melodic genius that should delight anyone who has a guilty pleasure for glam, new wave, soul and FM radio but wants it to be abused into a pulp. Or to make a further comparison, this music represents the halfway house between Babybird's bleakness and Cursor Miner's unabashed electro-pop. Pink's opening gambit is an eleven minute suite that tackles rockabilly, progressive rock and punk where even the vocals - ranging between falsetto and drunken Bryan Ferry-isms - sound schizophrenic. Yet 'Worn Copy's main calling cards are its moments of skewed pop nostalgia taking on soul ('Crybaby'), moody bedsit electro ('Life In L.A.', 'Credit') and plain madness ('Oblivious Peninsula'). Only a major record deal could harm this man's chances of further glory.